


Formal

by Malfoy_Lupin



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: College AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 13:00:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11336052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malfoy_Lupin/pseuds/Malfoy_Lupin
Summary: Ever since Paul got to college he's done nothing but talk about how excited he is for Formal, so Daryl sucks it up, gets a suit, and goes with him (because that's what good boyfriends do, right?). However, Daryl finds this crowd of people unwelcoming and it causes him to question his own relationship with Paul.





	Formal

He _hated_ this. He felt like an idiot. 

Daryl adjusted his suit jacket and then tugged at his tie. If he didn’t love Paul so much, he’d have said “fuck no”. This was not his scene at all. 

He’d only been on this campus once, to pick Paul up for winter break. He’d had most of his stuff shipped home so they could just get on his bike and go the moment Paul got out of his literature lecture. He’d gotten looks from passing students _then_. Now he was on campus for more than five minutes, in a three-piece suit, looking like a complete fool. 

A few students came down the hallway and Daryl turned his gaze to his boyfriend’s door and knocked again. Finally, Paul opened it and his eyes lit up as he saw Daryl before him. 

“You look great.” 

“I look like a fucking idiot.”

“Shush. No you don’t.” Paul tugged him into his tiny bedroom, which was filled with books and posters. Several pictures of the two of them were hung up above the bed. Before Daryl could disagree again, Paul leaned up to kiss him. “Thanks for coming.”

“You’re welcome,” he mumbled. He found his argument slipping away. Ever since the start of the year, Paul wouldn’t shut up about Formal. Every time he spoke about it over the phone or on facetime, he would light up and gush about how amazing it was going to be. Daryl couldn’t take that away from him. He had to at least _try_. 

“So, I got some stuff for you. Everyone says that it’s not worth going unless you pregame.” Paul bent to open the mini fridge and pulled out a six pack. He placed it on top and tossed a bottle to Daryl, who caught it. “They also said we shouldn’t go right on time. Usually you should wait until twenty minutes after the start time, when people finally start showing up.”

“Got it,” he said with a nod, pulling out the bottle opener from his pocket. He moved over to the window to pull the shade down. The last thing they needed was to get caught from whatever campus police was around. He popped open another bottle for Paul, handing it over. 

“Thanks, Babe. So, what do you think? Hair up or down?” He took a sip from the bottle before moving in front of the mirror to look at his hair down, and then experimentally hold it up. 

“Up. If we’re going to be dancing, you’re going to want it out of your face. You get weird when it’s sweaty and sticking to you.”

Paul laughed. “Fair.” He pulled his hair up, getting the bumps out of the top and glanced over at Daryl. “Does this mean you’re actually going to dance with me?”

“Whatever you want.” Daryl meant it, and sat down on Paul’s bed. They both knew he hated dancing, but what were you supposed to do when you were in love with someone who loved it? Paul finished with his hair, pulling a few stray pieces out so it wasn’t too perfect and turned back to Daryl. He grabbed his beer and walked over to him, moving to straddle his lap. 

“Seriously. Thanks for coming.” He leaned in to kiss him again. 

“You’re welcome.” Daryl’s voice was soft and he leaned up to capture another kiss. “Just know I’m going to hate everyone we come across.”

Paul laughed. “I know you will. It’s okay.” Daryl smiled then. He checked his watch. 

“Okay, so it starts in ten minutes. That means we have thirty minutes to get through the rest of this beer.”

**

Daryl drank most of the beer, as he knew he would. Paul was a slow drinker—or at least a slow _beer_ drinker. Anything with vodka he could suck down in an instant. A dangerous skill he had, as he was about as much of a lightweight as anyone could be. 

Paul got up and pulled back part of the shade. “People are there! Come on!” He grabbed for his suit jacket and bolted for the door. Daryl picked up Paul’s second beer, finished off the last few sips, and followed him out. 

It was weird. 

Techno music blared inside the giant tent the school had set up and brightly colored lights swooped around the room to the beat. It screamed club setting, but everyone was dressed as if they were going to a ball. Daryl couldn’t wrap his mind around it. The woman who stamped his hand at the entrance gave him a look, as if questioning if he was really a student here (which, of course, he wasn’t), but that didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to be here. He wished he could tell her that in any other circumstance, crashing this party wouldn’t be on his list of things to do. 

“Isn’t it cool?!” Paul shouted over the music. Daryl nodded and gave him a smile. Paul grabbed his arm and tugged him right onto the dance floor, straight into the middle of the crowd. He wrapped his arms around Daryl’s neck and began grooving to the beat. Daryl put his hands on Paul’s waist and shifted along with him. If he kept his eyes on his boyfriend, he could ignore how stupid he felt in this crowd. Paul grinned up at him and began singing along with the music, which made Daryl laugh. 

They’d gotten through ten songs before Paul needed a break. At least it seemed like it was ten? The DJ never let a song fully end, so it was hard to tell where a song started and where it officially ended. Paul led the way out of the crowd, wiping the sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand. 

“Oh man. I need water!” He glanced around to find where he could get some. 

“Hey, Paul!” A few voices managed to travel over the beat of the music, and Paul paused, looking around. There were several people in the group that approached them, and Daryl’s stomach sank. None of them looked at Daryl when they arrived, their full attention on Paul. 

“How’s it going?” one of the girls asked. She was dressed in a gown that seemed to belong on the red carpet. 

“Good! I was just looking for some water.”

“It’s over by the entrance,” one boy said and pointed. 

Paul followed with his gaze. “Awesome! This is my boyfriend, Daryl, by the way.”

All eyes turned toward him and their disapproval was obvious. 

“Daryl…” A girl tested out and pulled on a smile. “Interesting name…Nice to meet you.”

Daryl only nodded in response. 

“I’m going to run and get water quick. Babe, you want some?”

“Yeah, thanks,” he said and made to follow him, when the main boy in the group called him back.

“So, Daryl, what school do you go to?”

“I don’t, really.”

“Really?”

Daryl shrugged. “It’s not for everyone.”

“Very true…So, then, like, what do you do?”

“I work on cars and bikes and stuff.”

“Like motorcycles?” a girl asked. 

“Mhm.”

“My father hates motorcycles. He says they’re only for show,” she added. Daryl glanced over their shoulders to see if Paul was coming back yet. He was third in line for the water. Damn it. 

“How long have you two been together?” the boy asked. 

“Few years.” 

“And you two decided to stay together in college? That’s brave.” Daryl’s brow furrowed as he looked at the boy. The boy threw his hands up in warning. “I just meant, you know, people change in the college. Most relationships don’t survive. Though, maybe you two have good odds. I don’t know.” He shrugged. 

“Guess we’ll see, huh?” the girl in the gown giggled. 

“You know, we were just looking at divorce rates and the social and political impacts of divorce in class, spanning over several centuries. It’s really quite interesting. It goes all the way back to ancient times, and…”

Daryl stopped listening. Paul had two glasses of water now, making his way through the crowd back toward them.

“—think, Daryl?”

“What?”

“What kind of social and economic impacts do you think our regular standards and beliefs of marriage have?”

He could feel his cheeks flush. “Um.”

“Back! Here.” Paul handed over a glass. “What are we talking about?”

“Divorce rates.”

“Oh.” Paul frowned. 

“I need a smoke, I’ll be back okay?” Daryl leaned in to say and didn’t wait for Paul to accept, just started walking away. He needed air, he needed to get away from these people. 

He found a spot on a rock wall not too far away from the tent. He breathed a sigh of relief, took a sip of water, and then set the cup aside so he could pull out a cigarette. People here were so…ugh. He didn’t know how Paul stood it. Although, these were the exact kinds of people Paul grew up around, so he was used to it. It was Daryl who was the outcast. Paul always told him that’s what he loved about him, the fact that he wasn’t part of the usual crowd that Paul was used to being surrounded by. He’d said that Daryl had a better outlook on the world than everyone else did—a more realistic one. But Daryl still felt like an idiot in their presence. What even were social and political impacts of divorce? Or in general? How was he supposed to know that? And were they right about his and Paul’s relationship? He didn’t like to think so, but he wasn’t sure. People _did_ change. Paul was having a totally difference experience here, surrounded by smart people who could hold a conversation, while Daryl was still at home working on bikes and drinking beer and hunting. Would Paul grow tired of him? He wouldn’t be surprised if he did, but he hoped to god he didn’t. He loved him, and for Daryl to say that about anyone was not common. He didn’t open up very easily, and he knew if Paul walked away, it would crush him. 

He stubbed out the cigarette as he finished and lit another one. He wanted another beer. Maybe he should have brought his flask of moonshine, but it was in the pocket of his vest at home. Daryl exhaled a large cloud of smoke, watching couples walk by, either into the dance tent or back to the dorm buildings. Paul came out a moment later, trailing behind a big group of girls that giggled and helped each other with their heels on the blacktop. Paul was frowning, but jogged right over as he spotted Daryl. 

“You okay?”

“Fine.”

“You’re lying.” Paul sat down beside him. “Sorry, they can be a little, you know…” Paul shrugged. 

“Rude? Yeah.” 

Paul pressed his lips together. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

“Do you want me to go?” He was overreacting, he was sure, but the way he said it confirmed Daryl’s fears already. 

“No, of course not, but I know you’re not having fun.”

“I was fine until I met them. I told you I wasn’t going to like anybody.”

“You don’t have to like them.”

“Do you like them?”

“What?”

“Do you like them?” Daryl repeated, tapping ash off his cigarette. 

“I don’t know what that means,” Paul said, struggling to find words. 

“Then, let me ask you this, do you like me?”

Paul’s eyes widened, shocked. “I love you. You know that.”

“Okay. Cause I don’t think they know it.”

“What?”

“They just…they think I’m an idiot and that I’m not good enough. And I already know that I’m not. But—no, let me finish—but that’s always been my problem. Not feeling good enough, but they think we won’t last because I’m not smart enough, because I’m not doing enough with my life. Maybe I’m not, but I can’t be them. I can’t be the intelligent person who can discuss political and socio-whatever impacts on whatever. That’s not who I am. I’m not meant to be wearing designer suits and working in office buildings and getting driven around in a limo. If you like that, fine, but just know your friends don’t and they’re not going to leave it alone. People like you and people like me aren’t supposed to be together.”

“Like hell we aren’t,” Paul answered forcefully. “Look, I don’t care if you don’t go to an ivy league school, I don’t care if you wear suits or not. I mean, you look great in this one, but I love you in your boots and dirty jeans and I will take that any day. The reason we’re together, Daryl, is because you’re different. You’re kind and you’re thoughtful and you can do a hell of a lot more than these people can. Remember that time my car broke down on the side of the road and you were able to fix it in thirty minutes?” Daryl nodded. “Yeah, they can’t do shit like that. They’d be calling triple A. You work hard and you work hard no matter what it is. You came here for me, because you’re selfless, even though this isn’t your scene at all. I don’t know what we’re going to go through over the next however many years, but I promise that you’re not going to lose me over these idiots. You’re more than enough for me and I feel like I’m incredibly lucky to have you. Okay?”

Daryl nodded, gaze dropping to the ground. Paul’s hand reached out to turn his face toward his. “I love you. Trust me on that?”

Daryl nodded. “Love you too.” He lost himself in the kiss that Paul reached up for, and felt the anxiety in his gut ease up. 

Paul smiled at him as he broke away. “Come on, you can take that jacket off.” He helped Daryl shrug out of it before he tossed it away. “Still have your swiss army knife?” 

“Yeah, why?” Daryl asked suspiciously, but handed it over anyway. 

“We can just say ‘fuck it’ to these sleeves as well.” Paul grinned and gently cut open the seam of Daryl’s button down where the arms met the shoulders. He tugged one sleeve off and then moved to work on the other. Daryl laughed and Paul tossed them away. “Much better, right?” He leaned in to kiss one of Daryl’s biceps. 

“Yeah, a lot better.” 

“Let’s get you a beer. Then no more socializing, just dancing!” He pulled him up by the arm. 

“Fair deal.” Daryl smiled, lacing his fingers with Paul’s as they walked back into the tent.

**Author's Note:**

> Team No Sleeves for Daryl Ever. :) Thank you for reading!


End file.
